


Ghost of a Chance

by frantic65



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-10-30 04:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10869315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantic65/pseuds/frantic65
Summary: A canon friendly look at the life of Brian...Kinney and his epic love affair with himself and a twink named Justin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work that has been developing for far too long and will follow the storyline arcs of the series, sometimes faithfully and sometimes not. Will definitely divert by season 5 because of reasons.

_I don't believe in destiny; Or the guiding hand of fate_  
I don't believe in forever; Or love as a mystical state  
I don't believe in the stars or the planets; Or angels watching from above  
But I believe there's a ghost of a chance we can find someone to love  
And make it last...  
Ghost of a Chance by Rush 

 

By the time I reached puberty every last sentimental bone in my body had been broken at least once, some more than that. I’d lost count somewhere in the double digits, but it was roughly the same as the number of shots consumed by my mother on a daily basis.

By the time I graduated from high school, I towered over my old man, and he started trying to soften me up to be a chip off the old block. He began dragging me down to the Irish Pub on Delaney Street, proudly introducing me to his cronies as his Sonny Boy. I was on the cusp of leaving high school behind and preparing to enter the next stage in my rite of passage, apprentice to my old man at the Iron Worker’s Local. Yes, soon I would be learning the intricacies of laying pipe…wink, wink, nudge, nudge. It was an honest living, a manly profession, sure to make me an attractive catch to any number of fresh young pussies. 

“Live it up, Sonny Boy,” Pop would slur and fall off his bar stool as he tried to pat me on the back, “‘Cause once you knock ‘em up, your fucking life may as well be over. Look at me. You and your sister were the worse goddamn things that ever happened to me.”

“Yeah, Pop,” I’d think as I dragged his ass off the floor for the third time of the night, “Who wouldn’t want to grow up to be just like you?”

So maybe I neglected to inform him that I’d rather die than spend any more time bonding with him either in the workplace or at the local pub. I also kept the fact that the only place I’d be laying my pipe was up some hot guy’s tight ass, so teenage fatherhood was not high on my list of concerns.

I snagged a full sports scholarship behind their pathetic backs, and made sure I was packed and ready to go the night I broke the news to them. I’d wisely stowed my shit at Mikey’s house, anticipating the havoc my little bombshell would wreak on the blustering windbag and the frigid bitch, and they didn’t disappoint. 

“What are you, a fucking fairy?“ Pop sneered at me, before slamming his Bud down on the table. “What am I gonna tell the boys at the bar? You’re going to college to play soccer…what the fuck kind of real men play soccer?” He glared at me balefully, before turning on my mother. “This is your fault, you pious bitch. You see how God answered your fucking prayers now?”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose to try to stave off the motherfucker of a headache June and Ward were giving me.

Joan ignored my father as usual, and turned her arctic gaze toward me. “Brian, I don’t understand. Are you that eager to get away from me, that you didn’t even feel you could tell me what your plans were? “

“Mom,” I tried to explain through clenched teeth, “This isn’t about you. It’s about me, and what I want to do with my life.”

“Well, you weren’t always as selfish and ungrateful as you’ve become, but you’re right, you’re old enough to make your own mistakes.” She stepped closer to me and I allowed her to give me a cold, brief, whiskey reeking peck on my cheek. “I hope you get what you want out of this college experience, Brian. I’ll pray for you every day.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I snarked back at her. I knew that my sarcasm fell on deaf ears where she was concerned. “See ya, Pop.” I kept my distance from Jack, too wary from years of sucker punches and broken ribs to take the chance of winding up stuck in the Pitts for letting my guard down around him at the last second. 

By the time I matriculated from college with a Bachelor’s Degree in Advertising clutched in my hot little hand, I was ready to make a name for myself, and fucking my way through Gay Pittsburgh, one tight hole at a time seemed to be an admirable goal.

Seven years and several thousand tricks later, I was a bonafide success, both professionally and personally. I lived alone in a fantastic loft, a tastefully decorated fuck pad sparsely filled with expensive, modern Italian furniture. My designer wardrobe was the envy of twinks and queens alike, not that I noticed or cared what others had to say about me or my lifestyle.

I was a Senior Ad Executive at a high profile agency with the promise of a partnership looming temptingly in the near future. I was approaching the top rung on the professional ladder and I hadn’t been afraid to step on a few hetero fingers to get there. 

I had a close circle of friends that I looked after in my careless way, ridiculing them often, but paying attention if I felt one of them might actually need my intervention. I had even allowed myself to be coaxed into providing my sperm to my friend, Lindsay, and her bitch of a partner, Melanie, and that cork was about ready to pop any day now. As the time grew near for my spawn to be hatched, I’d been privately having some serious second thoughts about the wisdom of my reckless decision to procreate. 

After a recent run-in with my Pop, who had forgiven me for going collegiate on him after he caught wind of my six-figure salary, I would say I was terrified at the thought of having even the remotest influence on a child of my own; if terror was a feeling I could ever experience. 

When Lindsay insisted that I have an active part in our son or daughter’s life, I personally decided that it was a pregnancy induced hormone imbalance talking and that once the lad or lass arrived, she would realize that the less I was involved, the better off everyone would be. Add to that the fact that said baby would be a living, breathing testament to my own mortality, and I was desperately in need of copious amounts of drugs and alcohol just to maintain the status quo.

So there you have it boys and girls, the stage had been set and I had reluctantly found myself facing yet another crossroads in my life. I was twenty-nine and a half years old with the big 3-0 looming over my head like a gigantic cosmic guillotine, and my life was quickly turning from fucking fabulous to seriously fucked up.

I slammed back another shot of Beam and motioned the bartender for another, which I inhaled just as quickly before stalking onto the dance floor, feeling myself relax slightly as the familiar scent of musk, sweat, and semen surrounded me. I closed my eyes and lifted my hands above my head, swaying to the rhythm of the music beating all around me, throbbing its way into my blood. 

I never felt self-conscious or concerned that I was dancing alone, because if I wanted attention I was confident some twink would soon grind up against me, and if I wanted to be left alone, a “Fuck off!” would suffice. I raised my pharmacological drug du jour to my nose and inhaled deeply, enjoying the sudden rush just as I felt hands come to rest upon my hips, and a hard cock rub up against my ass. I turned to glance behind me, and grunted with approval at the tall, dark, and horny trick who smiled back at me. 

“Wanna suck my dick?” I murmured in his ear, barely waiting for his answer before I grabbed hold of his belt and pulled him steadily toward the back room.

I noticed the pathetic trio of Emmett, Theodore, and Mikey forlornly watching me walk by with my flavor of the moment, and I smirked widely at them, knowing that while they coveted my way of life, truth be told they were all seeking that fucking Holy Grail known as True Love. I pushed that thought aside since it made me feel nauseous and softened my dick thinking about their hetero fantasy of finding the man of their dreams among the trolls, twinks, and queens that made up the Queer World we all chose to live in.

I gave my undivided attention back to my trick, who was an eager sort, pushing me against the wall as soon as we reached the back room and sinking to his knees, hand reaching for my cock like a very good boy.

A few minutes later, I stepped out into the cool night air, and caught up with the boys, who were waiting near my jeep. It was still a little early, but I hadn’t lied when I said I’d been bored. It was a feeling I was unfortunately growing more familiar with daily. 

I tossed my jacket into the back seat of the jeep and casually glanced forward into the swirling evening mist just as a figure emerged and anchored itself to the streetlight. An involuntary shudder shook through my body as my eyes met those of the blond boy ass trying desperately to play it cool in the midst of Liberty Avenue’s debauched citizens. A phrase I couldn’t quite grasp whispered its way through my brain as I steered myself directly into his personal space. I’m sure the word “fucked” was in there somewhere, and as the twink bravely met my gaze, my cock and I were in perfect agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Brian's first night...round two.

I arched my back and moaned, warm lips surrounding my cock, the steady suction trying to pull my balls out through my shaft. What the fuck? My eyes snapped open as I felt a wet finger teasing my hole, but I quickly closed them again as black spots danced before my eyes, and a powerful sense of disorientation drew another grunt from my throat.   
Jesus Christ, I was going to kill that goddamn Anita for passing off whatever the fuck toxic cocktail was coursing through my bloodstream as pure E. And who the fuck was thinking about shoving his finger up my ass uninvited? 

I reached down and fisted my hands into a soft, thick head of hair and pulled it up, my dick sliding out of his mouth with a wet pop. I raised my neck from my pillow and squinted down into an eager, happy, young face, half hidden in the shadows cast by the blue lights glowing dimly over my bed.

“Who the fuck are you?” my voice was rough and my throat was parched and I was in no mood for any bullshit answer from a trick who had obviously stayed for dinner…and now assumed my ass was the dessert on the menu for tonight.

“I’m Justin,” he answered hesitantly, his cheery little smile flipping upside down as I continued to glare at him suspiciously. “Remember? You were gonna fuck me all night long, except…” my frown deepened as he continued, “you passed out after the first time.”

What? I stared at him in disbelief for a few moments before I quickly schooled my expression to its usual blankness. The little shit! I suddenly did indeed remember the story behind how this fucking little Dutch boy landed in my bed. He was that hot number I picked up outside Babylon and proceeded to bring back here to pop his cherry. I smirked at him lustily as I remembered how it felt to fuck his tight virgin asshole, but could this piece of blond boy ass actually be complaining that he wanted more than I had given him already? 

“I’m sure I didn’t pass out Jason,” I deliberately misnamed him. “I was simply resting up between rounds.” 

I decided to let the brat suck on that for a minute, but I fully intended to encourage him to finish what he started, this time without his finger in my ass…unless he earned it. After all, the lad did show some initiative, and I was not about to discourage a young fag on his road to self-discovery. 

I still had my hands in his hair, so I dragged him up my body and stuck my tongue into his open mouth, my flagging erection coming back to life as I gave him an impromptu Frenching lesson, and he indeed proved to be a very apt pupil.

“It’s Justin,” were the first words out of his panting mouth when I let him up for air, “and I was just practicing some of the new skills you showed me earlier.” My attention was caught by his clear blue eyes and less than innocent smirk. “I pride myself on being a straight ‘A’ student.”

I smirked back and pushed his head back down between my legs abruptly, confused by my growing fascination with this twink.   
“Well, maybe not ‘straight’…” I teased him gently, “Go on…consider this another pop quiz.”

He paused to look into my face before giving me a blinding smile. “Yes….sir!” My dick stood at attention, and I bit back a groan as he proceeded to shove my cock into his mouth with very little finesse but a whole hell of a lot of enthusiasm. He was obviously a born cocksucker, and with just a few pointers and tips he had me shooting my load into the back of his throat and coming down off of a most satisfying orgasm. 

I pulled him up onto my chest and brought his face in closely to mine. “Now, it’s always nice to share, Justin,” I instructed as I licked a few drops of my spunk from the corner of his lips, before plunging my tongue into his mouth again, “and good little boys will always get rewarded.”

I flipped him on his stomach and reached for the lube, touching two of my fingers gently to his hole, before slowly pushing in. I heard his sudden intake of breath, and I moved up his back until my lips were next to his face.

“Ready for Round Two?” I breathed lustily into his ear before nipping at his lobe and moving over to press a few kisses onto his smooth neck. “The rules are that if it hurts and you don’t tell me, I send you home now.” I was pretty sure that would guarantee at least some truthfulness from the boy. I was proud of my reputation as an asshole, but no one could ever say I got off on causing unsolicited pain to my tricks

“Yes,” he moaned as he squirmed beneath me enticingly, “please just fuck me again, I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts, but don’t stop now.”

I was satisfied with his response, so I kissed his back and shoulders for a few minutes and rutted steadily against the crack of his ass, pausing to continue to open him up with my fingers. Yeah, it may have been overkill, after all he was still stretched from our initial fuck, but for some reason that no doubt had to do with the fact that I was still pretty wasted from ingesting an entire fucking alphabet of narcotics, I didn’t want him to feel anything but pleasure this time.

I ripped open a condom and quickly slipped it on my rock hard cock. I was grateful that Anita’s illegal substances apparently didn’t hinder my recovery time, as I placed the tip of my dick at Justin’s hole, and pushed in slowly, pausing often to make sure he was still with me, and to give me time to gain a little control of my own. My cock, it seemed, was really excited to be exploring Justin’s blond boy ass again, another effect of the drugs no doubt.

Soon we set up a mutually satisfying rhythm, and I found myself pulling harder on his hips as I attempted to go deeper, his thrashing and moaning turning me on in a way I hadn’t enjoyed in quite a while. Finally, as he continued to beg me to go harder, faster, deeper, I sat back on my heels, pulling his body up against mine, and reached around to stroke him off. I let myself topple over the edge and I felt his cock pulse and throb as he shot his load all over my hand

As I tried to catch my breath I rubbed his seed into his stomach and pubes, lightly sucking and licking on a spot on his shoulder I had bitten as I came. I eased him gently down onto the bed and he rolled slowly onto his back, his satisfied sigh a relief to my ears. 

I was close to passing out again, and I was hoping that Junior was ready for beddy-bye this time. I lay back on the bed and covered my face with my hands, the horrible thought that this Justin, this twat, may have actually tired me out, echoing through my brain like the final death knell of my youth. 

I felt the warmth of his body inch closer to mine, so I lowered my hands and met his contented gaze. The complete adoration I found there greatly improved my temperament and I rolled my eyes as I reached my arm behind his shoulder and drew him closer to me. 

As he settled his head against my chest, I felt the fatigue finally overcome me, but before I could advise him that Brian Kinney did not cuddle, I was down and out for the count. I thought I felt lips press against my neck and heard a voice whisper. “I’ll love you forever, Brian.” But given the amount of drugs still in my system, I’m sure I must have been hallucinating.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian introduces Justin to the back room.

As I watched his car pull away, I felt every minute of my twenty-nine years bearing down on me, and it fucking pissed me off. I admit that part of Justin’s curious appeal to me had been the fact that he was so young. Contrary to what everyone thought, I did have some age standards where tricks were concerned, and I had never found myself drawn to jail bait ass before. I hoped I wasn’t turning into one of those lecherous and pathetic fags that started fucking baby-faced twinks to make themselves feel younger.

Christ, I should have jumped off the fucking hospital roof last night when I had the chance!

At any rate, I decided that I had probably seen the last of that particular blond boy ass, and even convinced myself that I had done him a favor by imparting some words of wisdom about the bullshit hetero notion of love. Hell, I’d done more than my fair share for this brat. He’d gotten his first fuck from the best, and now he was getting his first fuck off as well. The truth hurt, but better to get it from me than some troll or deviant he could have had the misfortune to stumble upon last night. 

I was somewhat impressed by how well he took this news, certain that a major drama queen meltdown was imminent as his eyes filled with tears, but he surprised me by standing his ground and leaving with his dignity mostly intact. 

I chastised myself for fucking around with a virgin in the first place, but live and learn I guess. I headed back up to my loft and my trick, feeling strangely unbalanced by my confrontation with the little twat. There was no denying he was a fine piece of ass, and my cock twitched at the glancing thought of just how hot it would be to train him more fully in the homo-sexual arts. 

I thought of how eagerly he had followed my lead last night, how voracious his sexual appetite was after just his first encounter, and then I pushed him determinedly from my mind. Justin would do fine in his new gay life; he would find another playmate among his schoolboy friends, and they would be fucking like bunnies in no time. I would be relegated to a fabulous footnote: the hot guy who ate his virgin ass and introduced him to the fine arts of rimming, ramming, fucking, and sucking. 

Suddenly, I was fucking exhausted and I decided to give Goodfuck the heave-ho, but I had no desire to try to find another trick for the night, and I was as horny as usual. He was already naked on my bed, so I pounced on him and fucked away any lingering thoughts about a certain teenaged stalker from my brain. Then, I sent George Goodfuck on his merry way, double checked my notes for a morning presentation, and dragged my ass to bed.

Did I mention I thought I’d seen the last of Stalker Boy? Yeah….well cue to the next night at Woody’s. I had my eye on a succulent piece of ass and I was just ready to move in for the fuck when Mikey interrupted with a fucking newsflash. Teen Stalker sighted at 6 o’clock or some shit. Mikey was already queening out about Deb’s presence at the bar, so I told him to ease off on the kid. Christ, Mikey needed to get fucked, and I made a note to send a good stiff cock his way later tonight at Babylon.

I told him I thought Justin was sweet; and I was actually flattered that the little shit was being so persistent. The boy was looking pretty hot so I was sure he’d find someone equally fine to hook up with, but I had my own plans for the night and they did not include a second helping of that particular piece of ass. My indulgent moment didn’t last too long however, when I discovered my potential trick had slipped away while I was preoccupied with Mikey and his mommy crisis. 

Shit! I had no problem with hunting down my prey, but I had really planned on getting my cock sucked before I headed to Babylon just to take the edge off. I was a great believer in instant gratification so this little delay sucked in a totally unacceptable way. Fucking Mikey!

Fortunately for him, I relocated my trick and managed to reconnect at Babylon. Things were looking up again as I picked up a second potential on the dance floor, and as I prepared to double my pleasure, the unthinkable happened; Stalker Boy magically reappeared, shirtless, sweaty, and completely slutty, and proceeded to hone in on my tricks.  
Now, apparently these two were pathetic assholes to fall for such an obvious ploy for my attention, but the little twat was playing with fire if he thought they would be as patient with him as I had been, so I was forced to intervene. 

In any case, he was just asking to get fucked tonight, and I decided his sheer brazenness deserved to be rewarded with another lesson from the Master. I don’t know how the fuck he managed to get in the club, but I was going to give him a tour that included the backroom. I was curious to see if my star pupil was ready for the lesson that would teach him all about sex in public places.

I separated my lamb from the wolves, and he immediately ground his cock against mine in a not unpleasant way. It seems that perhaps little Justin had watched that old movie Dirty Dancing more than once, and had been paying attention to more than just the peaceful scenery. He was sweaty and glistening and I couldn’t help but claim his lips and lift him high up in my arms at his wide-eyed excitement at being surrounded by the sensory overload of hot, horny men all looking for some fucking action, literally. I felt his breath quicken enticingly as I pressed my lips to his neck, and grabbed his ass more firmly as we rutted to the techno thump blasting around us.

I could tell by the lust glazed look in his eyes that he would do pretty much anything I told him, but I decided to grab some alcoholic fortification before I dragged him off to introduce him to the pleasures of the backroom. 

“So, Justin,” I began, as I watched him bravely choke down the shot of Beam I supplied for him, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder as he coughed at the burn. “Would you like to check out the rest of the club?” I smirked slightly as I saw nervousness war with desire on his face. I was already fairly confident that where Justin was concerned, desire and sheer curiosity would win out every time. I just needed to make sure the lad didn’t get traumatized by his first…taste…of the queer world I was about to show him.

I could tell that the shot had done its job and had not only chilled him out ever so slightly, but also made him ever so much more horny, a pleasing side effect I remembered from the first time I’d had hard liquor at this same club and made my own virgin trip to the backroom. 

I was itching for a pharmacological fix, but I knew I would have to settle for a fucking natural high this time; getting wasted and introducing fresh meat to the backroom was just a bad idea, and tonight I was not in a sharing mood.

Justin beamed a smile at me and flashed me an adoring glance that I was becoming familiar with, and found I enjoyed receiving. He looked so goddamned young and excited to be here with me, I bent down and stuck my tongue in his mouth, only releasing him when I felt his hand groping at my belt. Shyness was not one of Justin’s problems. 

I placed my lips close to his ear and murmured, “Do you know what a backroom is, Justin?” He shivered as my breath teased his neck. 

“N-no…I don’t think so.” He answered a tad hesitantly. 

“Relax,” I told him, placing a kiss on his sweaty temple. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just a room in the back of the club, where guys go…and get to know each other better. Would you like to go there with me now?” 

“You mean, they go there to fuck…right out in the open?” he sounded both concerned and turned on by the idea. “You want to fuck me in front of a bunch of strangers, Brian?”  
“Well, that’s up to you Justin. Some pathetic trolls just go back there and jerk off watching everyone else…is that what you want to do?” So it was a little bit of unfair pressure, but if I didn’t get off soon, I was going to fuck him here at the bar.

“Fuck no!” he snorted and tossed his head in a very sexy manner. “I don’t want to watch,” he looked up at me from under his lashes. “I’ll do whatever you want me to, Brian, even fuck you if you’d like.”

I barked out a laugh at the sheer arrogance of the lad. “Not happening in this lifetime, princess. Your choices for tonight are: 1) suck me; 2) get fucked by me; or 3) both 1 & 2.”  
I palmed his cock through his pants and caressed his balls. He stared at me hungrily and I saw his tongue peeking through his half-parted lips. I had a feeling the number three was about to become his magic number.

“Time’s up! What’s your answer?” The answer meant shit by now because in two seconds I would be dragging his ass to the backroom, and ten seconds after that my dick was going to be balls deep in that fine ass.

Jesus, when I was seventeen there was never any hesitation when the opportunity to fuck came up. What was wrong with these kids today?

“I want you to fuck me, Brian,” he slid his eyes toward my cock and this time the little fucker licked his lips and pressed his sweaty body up against me from chest to thigh. “but first I want to suck you off.”

“Good answer.” I praised him as I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. After I let him up for air, I hooked my fingers onto his belt and led him to my idea of homo heaven. “Come on, twat.” 

As we entered the dimly lit hallway, I reached behind and took Justin’s hand in mine, feeling his fingers tighten on mine nervously as we penetrated the inner sanctum of Babylon’s backroom. Normally, I was oblivious to the lustful glances thrown my way, knowing that all I had to do was lean against the wall and I could have my choice of tricks. Tonight, however, with Justin’s virgin foray into the gay Mecca, I was aware of the hungry looks being aimed at him, and I found myself glaring at the boldest of the tops, letting them know that at least for tonight, the twink was mine.

I found an open spot at a wall slightly isolated from the most congested areas and leaned back slowly, pulling Justin in front of me and resting my hands loosely around his waist. He was a little freaked by all the moaning and groaning going on around him, but when I reached between us to cup his cock, it was clear that his hard on was doing just fine.

I started nuzzling at his neck and licking my way up toward his ear. I felt him relax further into my body as my hot breath fanned his earlobe and drew a shudder and a moan from deep within his chest. I paused and lifted my head as I noticed a club boy circling in a little too aggressively, and growled out a “Fuck off!” when he reached out towards Justin’s ass. 

I spent a few moments sucking on Justin’s tongue before I pushed him away gently, and placed my hands on his shoulders, guiding him to his knees before me. He looked up at me and grinned, unbuckling my belt eagerly, and popping open my fly to release my cock. He glanced around and froze as he saw the many interested parties checking out the action.

“Hey,” I pushed my hand into his hair and tilted his head back to meet my eyes. “Don’t worry about them. They think we look hot together…they wish they were us.”

And just like that, the doubt cleared from his expression, and I had to fight back a groan as he swallowed my cock like a fucking expert, and proceeded to blow my mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian gives Justin a lesson in trick hunting at Babylon.

What do you do when you feel your life starting to veer off in a direction you hadn’t anticipated and you are abso-fucking-lutely sure it’s not the way you’d willingly intended to go? If you were most of the general population of pathetic breeders, lesbians, and dickless fags I try to avoid daily, you’d paste a sickening smile on your face and blather on about Fate…or Karma…or fucking Destiny…and meander through your life like a bleating sheep being led to slaughter. Or, you can use my preferred method and choose to grab hold of life by the fucking balls and squeeze, until you either get your ass back on track, or you self-destruct trying. 

The first sign of impending change I chose to ignore, and as a result, my son Gus came into this world with two muncher mommies, and a fuck up of a father who is bound to disappoint him before he leaves toddlerhood. But as soon as I saw him, I couldn’t deny the pride and awe I felt that my spunk and Lindsey’s egg had somehow joined together to create the squirming bundle that would come to know me as his old man. So, I guess in that situation, it was life that had me by the balls, but since I wasn’t expected to be a major player in raising Sonny-boy, I found that I was willing to accept and admit that I didn’t mind him being around. 

Next, there was Justin, teen stalker extraordinaire, who somehow keeps coming back no matter how hard I push him away, and more disturbingly, has proven to be a natural at every sexual position and situation I keep bending him into. I’ve almost convinced myself that a sweet piece of meat like that may be a good thing to have on the side, my gay porny version of Educating Rita, and a chance to further piss off a few homophobes by grooming little Justin into the best in-your-face homosexual he can be. I’m an adman after all, and the spin there is pretty much irresistible to me. As far as I’m concerned, Justin may fall into the category of a win-win scenario; he benefits from my sexual acumen and experience, and I get to enjoy his hot twink body on a more or less regular basis. 

The newest monkey in my life’s wrench was Theodore Schmidt, who got tweaked with a twink of his own, and landed himself in a fucking coma because he let his dick talk him into taking drugs from an unproven and unreliable source. I know everyone was shocked that someone like boring as fuck Ted was the one who succumbed to the evils of unwise drugging, and if pushed would admit they had expected me to become the next Karen Ann Quinlan of Pittsburgh. But I play it safe with both drugs and sex, and I would never put myself in the position Ted was in, unless it was what I wanted. It’s all about self-control and not letting yourself get fucked up by a pair of pretty blue eyes and the promise of a tight hole; a lesson Theodore didn’t seem to have learned.

But, Ted ends up being one of the lucky ones, and although I want to kick his ass for making me his motherfucking power of attorney, I can’t help but agree with the logic behind his choice. I am a heartless asshole and the cold, hard truth is that I would have done what he wanted, because sometimes life really does suck, and not in a way that ends with a satisfying conclusion.

A few nights after Ted’s return from the dead, I’m leaning on the rail of the catwalk, scoping out the slim pickings of the mid-week crowd of mostly trolls and skanks at Babylon, when I catch a familiar flash of blond hair from the corner of my eye. It appears little Justin is out stalking on a school night, but seems to have been side-tracked by an interested predator. I follow the action with practiced indifference not wanting the twat to think I was his fucking guardian angel, or one of Mikey’s spandex clad superheroes. 

I knock back my scotch and casually head down the stairs toward the bar when I see Justin half-heartedly agree to dance with the rather insistent alpha fag that can’t seem to keep his fucking hands to himself. I see Justin scanning the dance floor, no doubt looking for me, but I stay back in the shadows, waiting to see how this will play out. 

The lad is way too green to be hunting for tricks all by his lonesome, and I know by reputation that the guy who’s grinding against him wouldn’t be on my approved list of potentials for the boy. Not hot enough by far, and known for using a little alphabetical coercion with a fondness for the letters GHB to land his conquests. I may be an asshole, but I will never be pathetic enough to drug a trick to score a fuck. 

I watch as Justin’s dance partner takes a snort of something and offers the vial to him. Justin shakes his head no and discreetly turns away trying to join in with a group of twinks dancing in a circle nearby. I stifle a laugh at the look of frustration on the face of Mr. Wrong as he watches his catch of the night wriggle away, shaking his ass and laughing with the other boytoys. 

I feel a small kernel of approval in the way Justin has handled the situation so far, but knowing the sleaze that he’s just blown off, I’ve got a feeling the show’s not quite over yet. Sure enough, Don Juan Loser slinks up behind Justin and locks his arms tightly around his chest. I move in a little closer but I keep a careful watch on Justin’s face to see his reaction. 

The lad is pissed and I snort in amusement as he breaks out of club boy’s hold and whirls around to face him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes flashing angrily. Shit! He’s fucking hot when he’s mad and I want to drag him by the belt into the backroom and fuck him senseless up against the wall…now!

Club boy still hasn’t gotten the message though, and when Justin flips him the bird, the creep gives my boy a hard shove, sending him stumbling into the now watching crowd of gossip queens and fight club fags. I step out of the background and I hear a murmur from the bystanders as I invade the sleazebag’s personal space and growl a “Fuck off!” into his flushed and furious face. 

“Fuck you, Kinney!” is the unwise response, “You don’t own every hot piece of ass in Pittsburgh!”

“You tweaked out piece of shit,” I begin, not realizing until I begin to speak just how good it feels to let off some steam after the last few fucked up weeks of my life. “You are a pathetic excuse of a queer who is too wasted to realize that no hot piece of ass in this city wants your dick anywhere near them, so get the fuck away from this twink, and get the fuck out of here while you still have all of your fucking teeth!”

I stare him down, fists clenched, and with one last leer in Justin’s direction he skulks off toward the backroom where he would no doubt find an easier mark more than willing to beat his meat. 

I turn around and stalk back to the bar counting down in my head from ten. By the time I reach six, Justin is hot on my heels grabbing my bicep as he tries to intercept me.  
“Brian, wait!” he’s slightly breathless and pleasingly flushed, his mega wattage smile partially dimmed after his confrontation with the creep. I pause and stare at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Thanks for saving my ass back there. That guy was a real jerk.” He tries to put his arms around my neck, but I pull back and shoot him a stern glare. He licks his lips nervously as he contemplates his next move. I watch his tongue caress his bottom lip and I get the urge to pull it in my mouth and suck on it. I look at him thoughtfully, trying to decide if I should fuck him in the backroom or take him back to the loft with me. 

The thought of me publicly staking a claim on his blond boy ass holds a certain appeal, but if I’m seen with him in the backroom again word might get back to Mikey and the boys. Not that I give a shit what anyone says or thinks about me, but Mikey was really pissed after Justin blew me in his old bedroom the other day and I’d rather not add any more fuel to that little fire. Mikey needs to loosen the fuck up, and I decide to get him wasted and laid this weekend to reduce his goddamn stress level. 

Yeah, well that jerk,” I lower my head to look him straight in the eyes. “could have really fucked you over, you stupid twat. Always trust your first instinct. You knew he was bad news from the start, and you still gave him a chance.” He tried to look away but I put my fingers under his chin and forced him to meet my gaze. “Now listen to me, Justin. Are you listening?” He shook his head in the affirmative. “If you want to trick, you need to do it safely. That means no drugs or drinks from strangers and don’t let anyone ever fuck you without a condom. Do you understand?” 

“Yes Brian.” He answered me a little sadly, but then he blinked his eyes slowly and let his tongue peek hungrily from between his lips again. “I wasn’t here looking for a trick anyway.”

“Oh?” I queried with an air of disinterest I really wasn’t feeling, especially as he succeeded in wrapping his arms around my neck, pressing his sweaty self invitingly up against me. “Then why were you here?”

“I came here to find you.” He whispers softly, and presses his lips to my neck when I refuse to let him pull my mouth to his. “I want to be with you…I want you to fuck me.”  
I can’t help it, I feel my gaze drawn to his, and something inside me shifts uncomfortably. My confusion grows as I automatically return his embrace, and I slowly feel my sense of direction return to me. 

“What makes you think I want to fuck you, twat?” I’ve recovered sufficiently to shoot him an impassive look, but I know my hard cock twitching in definite interest against his hip gives me away.

He smiles up at me guilelessly, his blue eyes a combination of innocence and lust that never fails to fascinate me. “You always want to fuck me, Brian,” he answers simply, “and I can always give you what you need.”

I take him out to my jeep and fuck him up against the side. At some point, I open the passenger door and push him down, still thrusting deeply into his ass, his cries of pleasure muffled by the fabric of the seat cushion. I grab his hips and pull him roughly back as I feel my balls begin to tighten and my rhythm starts to stutter. I reach around and stroke him off, shooting my load in the condom as I feel his ass pulsing around my cock as he comes. 

I drape over his back, catching my breath. The scent of his hair, shampoo mixed with sweat, invites a nuzzle and a few quick kisses, because after all, the boy is turning into one fine fuck. I pull free and dispose of the condom, and he squirms over onto his back so he can look at me. 

“Take me home with you.” He pleads temptingly, and though I open my mouth to agree, I suddenly get the urge to grab life by the balls and squeeze, forcing a balance to be returned to me instead of just blindly following some pathetic path I’m not sure I’m willing to travel.

“No,” I tell him bluntly, ignoring the disappointment in his eyes, “It’s a school night and I have an early meeting tomorrow. I’ll drop you off at Daphne’s.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but whatever he sees in my expression convinces him to agree instead. Smart boy! I just need to get the fuck away from him as quickly as possible right now, and by pushing a few traffic laws to their limits, I pull up in front of Daphne’s house in record time.

I sit in silence as I feel him glancing over at me nervously as he tries to decide what to do next. 

“Open the door, Justin.” I instruct him and I meet his gaze steadily, with no emotion.

“Goodnight Brian.” His voice sounds small and his hurt look makes me want to scream in frustration. I give in a little, and reach over to grab him by the neck as he opens the door. I pull him close and rest my forehead on his, my fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. 

“Goodnight brat.” I whisper as I give him a quick kiss before pushing him away. “Go write in your diary about your adventures at Babylon.” I smirk mockingly at him and can’t help but smile as he flips me off and slams the door. 

I wait until I see Daphne let him in, and then I drive away without a backward glance, satisfied that my ass is well on its way to being back on track.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian convinces Justin to try a little something different.

Fucking psycho homophobic breeder!

The topic of our discussion today boys and girls is dysfunctional families and why the fuck I keep getting my ass kicked by Stalker Boy’s homophobic prick of a father.

It’s bad enough I was my old man’s punching bag during my tender fucking years. A part of me accepts that I drew the shitty end of the stick being born into the Kinney nest of alcoholic, abusive vipers. Now it appears that Dawson’s Daddy has decided I am the fucking anti-Christ and has made it his life’s goal to eradicate my evil ass off the face of the Earth.

I fucked his precious golden boy and converted him into the cult of cock-worshipping pedophiles Craig Taylor believes all homosexuals to be. Daddy Dearest needs to buy a fucking clue if he wants to seriously admit that he never suspected his cute little artistic son might prefer prick to pussy.

The next time I even fucking think about using the words, “My life” and “boring” in the same sentence I’m going to do myself a favor and slit my wrists.

In the span of a few days I have Justin’s psychotic sperm donor to thank for not only a concussion that hurt like a motherfucker, but a fucking gash above my eye that will probably leave a scar and make me look like Frankenstein’s monster. Then, before the dust even had a chance to settle on my trashed jeep, Papa Taylor fucking jumped me outside of Babylon and proceeded to try to kick my ass. Thank God I was able to protect my face and limp away with just some bruised ribs that time.

I did, however, come away with an unexpected souvenir from my close encounter of the totally fucked up kind, in the form of the ubiquitous Justin Taylor, who made a quite courageous stand against his old man, but as a result, has taken up temporary residence in my fucking loft.

His father may be an asshole, but I really can’t hold that against Justin, given that my family tree is about as twisted as it gets. No, in a strange way that has me slightly worried that my concussion has led to some subtle brain damage, I find I don’t mind having the lad around as much as I thought I would.

He wears my fucking clothes and has nary a clue about the concept of “Everything in its Place and a Place for Everything”, but for the most part his addition to the furnishings has come in somewhat useful.

Once I explained the fucking rules, and made sure Princess understood that we are not in any sort of relationship, real or imagined, I found he’s a rather amusing and dare I say convenient companion to have around.

Take this evening, for example; I find that I am facing a marathon session at my computer, working on a presentation that the inept morons in the art department have fucked up yet again, leaving me to pull another miracle out of my ass. Normally, this would piss me off on multiple levels, especially since it was apparent that I was going to miss out on “Twisted Twister Night” at Babylon, but instead I found my attention drawn to the kitchen island where Justin was engrossed in whatever the hell teenager’s find interesting nowadays.

“Hey Brat,” I called over to him, saving my work and stretching my arms over my head tiredly, “Did you finish your homework like a good little boy?” I smirked as I finish speaking, because one thing that drives Justin bat-shit crazy is being reminded that he is indeed still a schoolboy. So I find myself in the pathetic situation of making sure Mother Taylor’s little angel maintains his fucking straight A status at Pittsburgh’s own St. James Stepford Academy. 

“Shut up Brian,” he finished the paper airplane he had been folding and set it aloft in my direction. “Stop treating me like a kid and come over here and fuck me already.”

See what I have to put up with? My eyebrows climb high up on my forehead and I decide that a good fucking is definitely in order for my outspoken houseguest. However, perhaps it was time to introduce my star pupil to a more diverse array of sexual positions.

I pushed my tongue against the inside of my cheek, and slowly advanced toward the kitchen island. “Maybe we should try something new tonight.” I let a predatory smile cross my face, biting back a laugh as I saw Justin’s expression change from confident to fucking worried. 

“Something new?” he cleared his throat nervously as I shot him an appraising look, silently approving as I watched him gather his courage and stare me right in the eye. “Good boy.” I thought to myself, reaching forward to stroke his cheek gently.

“Relax Justin, “I whispered as I cupped his chin and raised his face to mine. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you Brian.” His sincerity was almost disquieting. “I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.” And then he leaned forward and kissed me, reaching behind me to caress the nape of my neck as he pressed our lips tightly together and slipped his tongue in to meet mine.

I felt that peculiar heat start to flare up between us, and as I broke away from his embrace, I felt slightly confused, no doubt a residual effect of my recent fucking concussion courtesy of Craig “Crash” Taylor.

“Ah, to be young and innocent.” I took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom, pausing to reverse positions as we neared the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress.

He laughed as he bounced lightly, leering at me suggestively, cupping his balls through his jeans.

“Did I say innocent?” I stared at him in mock horror as I jumped onto the bed beside him. “Maybe that ship has sailed after all.” I reached down and covered the hand he had pressed against his cock with my own. “So…playtime Sunshine?”

He licked his bottom lip and turned his lust-filled gaze to mine. “As long as it ends with your dick in my ass, I’ll be happy.”

“I think I can guarantee a good time will be had by all.” I entwined my hands in his hair and pulled his head back, licking the column of his throat and nipping playfully at his chin. I brushed my lips in a whisper against the shell of his ear, smiling as I felt a shudder race through his body.

I press my lips against his and murmur, “Tonight you’re in control.” I hear him swallow nervously, and I quickly anticipate his question. “You don’t get to fuck me.” I pull back and look him in the eye. I feel a flash of annoyance as I glimpse what looks suspiciously to be vague amusement lurking there, but a moment later I only see the expected lust and adoration, so I relax. “But I’m willing to let you drive.”

“Vroom-vroom!” he snickers and I smack his ass playfully in warning. He’s a hot little fucker, but sometimes it’s jarring when he actually acts his age.

He licks his lips eagerly and encourages me to roll over onto my back. He quickly straddles my hips and captures my arms, pinning them above my head as he catches each of my nipples between his teeth and pulls them taut, before sucking his way to my neck, making me jump every time he nips gently at my skin.

“No marks Justin.” I remind him after a particularly sharp nibble. I’m giving a presentation for a multi-million dollar account in the morning, and love bites from my seventeen year old whatever the fuck he is, would probably not impress my client.

He purrs in response and sticks his tongue in my mouth while grinding his leaking cock against my stomach. He releases my arms and I immediately fist my hands into his hair, pressing his mouth even more tightly against my own as we continue to take turns sucking each other’s tongues. His mouth is as hot as the rest of him, and he is utterly fearless when it comes to sex, a rare and exciting quality to find in anyone, let alone a hot teenaged twink.

He breaks the kiss and we are both left panting for breath. He makes a show out of sucking two of his fingers into his mouth, while I reach around and caress his nicely rounded ass. He pulls his now wet fingers free with a pop, and smiles seductively as he proceeds to push them into his hole, squirming and moaning as he opens himself up.

I rub his flank gently with one hand as he arches his back gracefully, and with the other I snag a condom. I rip it open with my teeth as he continues to fuck himself on his fingers, and I reach beneath his hard cock bobbing near my face to sheath my own aching erection. I make sure I brush the back of my hand over his balls as I pull away, causing him to moan and still for a moment. I smirk at him, knowing he stopped because he was on the verge of coming. I consider stroking his dick to test his control, but I’ve never let him ride me before, and I have to admit I’m looking forward to it as much as he is.

“Ride me, Justin.” I buck him gently for emphasis and hold the base of my cock as he removes his fingers from his ass and rests his hole over the head, sliding down slowly until his ass is flush with my pubes. I grunt as the hot tightness massages my cock, and I reach up to stroke his sweaty hair as he pants and adjusts to my girth.

I hold still since I promised him this was his game tonight, and I catch the lusty gleam in his eye as he leans back trying to take me in deeper. He gasps as he hits his prostate and grabs at his leaking cock with his right hand, stroking himself firmly and playing with the pre-cum that drips steadily from his slit. I grit my teeth, more turned on by watching him fuck himself on my dick as he masturbates than I’m willing to admit, even to myself.

He sets a rhythm for himself, and I thrust in time as he slides himself up and down, picking up speed as he pushes closer to the edge. He cries out suddenly and presses his chest to mine, his teeth clicking against mine as he searches desperately for my mouth. I feel his cock pulsing as he shoots his load between us, the heat from his seed joining us together in a warm, sticky mess.

His ass has been steadily clenching my cock and I push him up straight, so I can pump my own load deep inside him. He moans as he feels me fill the condom, and I collect some of the cooling come puddled on my stomach and offer it to him. He sucks it off my fingers. “Mmmm.” He smacks his lips and leans down to lick some more of his essence from my chest. “Tasty. Want some?” and he pushes his tongue into my mouth, sharing his treat like the good boy that he is.

He dismounts from my softening cock, eases the condom off, and pulls me into his mouth, moaning happily as he licks me clean, nuzzling me like a puppy as I lay there catching my fucking breath. Jesus, he did all the work and I feel like I ran a marathon!

He looks up at me for approval, so I gently grab the back of his neck and pull him up beside me. He squirms around next to me until he is resting with my arm around his shoulders and his head pillowed on my chest. He presses kisses into whatever part of my skin he can reach and I stroke my fingers absently in his hair letting him snuggle or whatever the fuck he calls it as a reward for the fucking fabulous sex. I decide that yet another erotic experiment has been a great success.

My thoughts drift back to his asshole of a father and what I would give to have the homophobic prick see that contrary to what he thinks, his son is turning into one hell of a fine man, regardless of the fact that he prefers dick to snatch.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Justin twists his head to look up at me. That’s it…he’s been hanging around Emmett too much, asking a sappy question like that.

“What the fuck Justin?” I grumble as I pull away slightly to grab my cigarettes from the nightstand.

There’s a brief pause as he digests my response and then the little bastard giggles. “You’re right Brian. Your thoughts must be worth a quarter at least.” He sticks his tongue out and wiggles it obscenely. I pretend to threaten it with my now lit cigarette and he yelps in mock fear, accidentally sticking his elbow in my still bruised ribs. I flinch and hiss from the pain and I see a look of horror immediately cross his face.

“Oh Shit...your ribs.” He moves away from me and runs his hands nervously through his hair. “I’m so, so, so sorry Brian.” Jesus, he looks like he’s about ten seconds from a major drama queen meltdown.

“It’s ok Justin.” I adjust myself into a more comfortable position and beckon him closer again. “Come back over here. It was just a twinge.” He scoots back over and nuzzles his nose against mine. “Fucking Craig. I can’t believe my own father can be such a dick.” He starts to look miserable again.

“Hey, listen to me…are you listening?” I grab his chin and force him to meet my gaze. “It’s not your fault. No one can choose their parents, and believe me I know about shitty families. You can only answer to yourself, and you have to live your life in a way that makes you happy. Understand?”

He searches my face for a minute, and I can tell the exact moment it really sinks in. His expression clears and I get a glimpse of Sunshine again. He nods and gives me a small smile.

“Now, lay the fuck down and be quiet. I have a client tomorrow that will have my ass, and not in a good way, if I’m not at the top of my game.” I extinguish my cigarette and get up to take a piss. When I get back I hand him a washcloth and wait while he wipes the dried come off his body.

Soon the loft is dimly lit and quiet, and I pull him up against me. “You’re nothing like your father, Justin, and it’s his loss if he only sees his faggot son when he looks at you. You concentrate on becoming a big, fat, fucking success, and believe me; that will be the best revenge.” So maybe I was projecting a little of my own life experience on the lad, it was still fucking fabulous advice, and if anyone could get what he wanted in life, it was Justin.

For the time being, it seemed I was stuck with an unexpected roommate, but sometimes the unexpected turns out to be not as fucking bad as you think it will be. And as I drifted off to sleep, I felt his lips softly tracing the faded bruises on my side.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian pays Justin a late night visit.

I picked up another handful of gravel and lobbed it up at the second story window of the Novotny homestead. Then I lost my fucking balance and wound up on my ass on Deb’s patchy front lawn. For a person who prided himself on landing on his feet for most of his life, I seemed to be spending an awful lot of time up to my eyeballs in other people’s shit recently, and I was getting really fucking tired of it. 

In the past few weeks, aside from getting assaulted by Justin’s psychotic father twice, I had also been robbed by what I suspect is Pittsburgh’s Gay equivalent of Robin Hood and his very fairy men, and apparently cursed by a fucked-up drag version of Madame Zelda, the fortune teller.

So, all in all, boys and girls, I had at least a dozen good reasons for my current state of falling down fucked-up drunkenness. Let me edluci—eludci—elucidate on how I arrived in my present condition. 

The catalyst for my most recent run of pathetically bad luck was my happy ex-houseguest, sweet little Sunshine, aka little orphan Justin. 

I had previously admitted that I had been adapting to having Justin’s sweet ass a semi-permanent fixture at my loft, especially after an unsuccessful attempt to reconcile him with his parents. That unfortunate incident ended with my reluctant realization that what was best for the lad would be keeping him out of his home and far away from his father, who it turns out, is not just a homophobic prick, but just as controlling and abusive as my own Pop, but in his own smugly WASP-y way. 

_“Welcome home, son, but only if you’re going to conform to my suburban, white-bread, homophobic beliefs. Fuck Suzy Cheerleader in the backseat of the Volvo, play tennis at the Country Club, hide some Playboy magazines under your mattress, and I’ll forget this little hiccup on the road to straight manhood.”_

Fuck that! Justin liked dick, plain and simple, and no one had the right to force him to live a lie, not even his old man. The fact that this…fucking seventeen-year-old kid…was confident and brave enough to stick to his beliefs in the face of complete disapproval and rejection by the man who should be nothing but proud of him hit too dangerously close to home for my liking. My father never needed much of an excuse to backhand me one, but even I had to admit that by the time I was Justin’s age, I was a smart-mouthed punk that took a perverse satisfaction in pushing Jack over the edge and subsequently driving Joanie to hit the bottle that much harder. Yet I’ve never had the courage to stand up to Jack and let him know that his only son is a big queer. Accomplishments deserved to be rewarded, and there was no way I was going to let an asshole like Craig Taylor punish Justin for being true to himself. 

So, I scored no points with Ma and Pa Taylor when I whisked their baby boy back out into the depths of Liberty Avenue perversions, but no one knows better than me that you fucking reap what you sow. 

That night, I let Justin sleep curled around me like a fucking anaconda after his restlessness interrupted my beauty sleep for the third time in less than an hour. His apologies were starting to drive me batshit crazy, so I tucked his head down beneath my chin, and didn’t mention the fact that his fucking allergies baptized my chest with about a gallon of snot and other bodily liquids. When he finally drifted off for good, legs entwined with mine like he was a vine clinging to a tree, I kicked the covers off of us and allowed myself to relax enough to slip into a light slumber. The care and feeding of Justin Taylor was proving to be an exhausting endeavor. 

Now, I will be the first to admit that perhaps I overreacted just ever so slightly to the whole loft burglary incident, but they stole my fabulous wardrobe, for fuck’s sake. Everything was designer, some were originals from past Prada, Armani, what the fuck ever seasons, and just can’t be replaced. Like I’m going to look on ebay for a replacement for my Spring 1996 Prada loafers? Those things were practically one-of-a-kind. As if I would wear used anything in the first place. I had enough of that shit when Joanie Dearest used to go to Catholic Charities to beg for my clothes when I was growing up after Jack drank and gambled away the back-to-school clothing allowance for his inconvenient children. No fucking way was I touching pre-owned attire with a fifty-foot pole. Besides, with all the pathetic queens in Pittsburgh, whoever stole my shit probably ended up reselling it on ebay anyway, and I’d wind up bidding on my own designer duds. 

No, a trip to NYC during the next Fashion Week was definitely warranted, but I ended up taking a bite out of the Big Apple a whole lot sooner than expected. Apparently, I hurt wittle Justin’s feelings by blaming him for leaving the loft vulnerable to the heinous gay-on-gay crime that left me without clothing or cutlery. But the little shit fucking knew the rules when I let him stay…and setting the fucking alarm every time he left the premises empty was numero uno. So, princess decided to run away into the big, bad streets of the City when I banished him from my loft. He absconded with my fucking credit card, and a duffle bag filled with his Gap Kids clothing, that the burglars recognized as the inferior and fugly apparel that it is, and of course, avoided it like the plague. 

Naturally, the entire pathetic situation was deemed to be all **my** fucking fault by his hag, Daphne; my hag, Lindsay; and the biggest hag of all, Debbie. The fact that he stole my fucking credit card wasn’t even a blip on anyone’s radar, yet as usual, I was the source of all evil in this latest little drama. 

I tracked him to a fucking five star hotel in Manhattan, charged on my credit card natch, and decided to add the life experience of getting fucked through the mattress to the little twat’s sexual education. He loved it of course, and then since I wasn’t about to let this ridiculously over-priced room that I was paying for go to waste, I dragged his ass into the over-sized shower with me. 

I smelled like I’d spent a debauched weekend in the baths, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if I’d enjoyed the orgy that normally went with that. I was also fucking exhausted, still had to worry about driving back to the Pitts, finding a new home for the orphaned drama princess, and making sure the presentation I had to give in two days to a potential new client worth millions to Ryder hadn’t been fucking sabotaged by the inept art department. The crowning tragedy in all of this was that I would be leaving the fucking city without being able to visit any of my favorite designer haunts.

“Get the fuck over here and scrub my back or something, twat!” I growled at Justin, tossing a washrag in his general direction, and ignoring the fact that the brat fucking rolled his eyes at me. Luckily, he grabbed said washrag and dutifully began to lather me up with the sub-standard soap provided by a hotel that should have at least offered salon quality bath products to their guests. If my skin dried out and started flaking from using this shit, I was going to take it out on little Sunshine’s tight ass. 

I started to relax as the warm water and Justin’s firm stroking along my tense shoulders and sore back muscles proved more comforting than I would have imagined. I leaned forward and pressed my palms flat against the tile wall, letting my head fall loosely into the warm spray. I heard him murmur something as he continued to rinse the soap from my torso, and I grunted in approval as he slid in tightly behind me, confidently massaging shampoo into my scalp. I felt his lips trail along my neck, and I shivered as the water cascaded over us gently, his hardening cock sliding along the back of my thighs as he continued to massage my scalp long after the shampoo was gone. 

“I’d really love to fuck you Brian.” He whispered urgently against my ear as he pressed his dick restlessly across my ass. I reached up and grabbed his wrists, twisting around so I could face the poor, deluded lad. I almost snorted at the look of frustration that he was sporting, but I needed to make a point and remind him of some boundaries. 

“I’m the top, Justin. I think we established that little fact the first night you spent with me. You want to be versatile, that’s fine with me, find a nice bottom boy and fuck his brains out. I’ll even let you bring him back to the loft, and we can have a fucking threesome. But make no mistake, an invitation into my ass is a rare occurrence, and after Sunshine’s Adventure in the Big City here, you are nowhere close to being added to that VIP list.” By now, he had lowered his eyes and was biting his lip, so I sighed and threw him a bone.   
“Hey,” I said, dropping his wrists and wrapping my arms around his wet torso, “I’m not saying it can never happen.” He looked doubtful, so I pulled back to brush the dripping water from his cheek, and offered him what I hoped was a sincere smirk. “Look, if you’re a good boy and cooperate over the next few days while I find you a foster home, maybe I’ll let you rim my ass and practice proper use of your favorite dildo on me.” 

The little shit actually licked his lips in anticipation, heedless of the water that continued to gently fall on him from the shower head above. “Really?” he practically purred as his kinky mind began to shift into overdrive at the thought of eating my ass _and_ fucking me with a sex toy. When it comes to nasty, freaky shit, the lad can be positively frightening. 

I reached around and smacked his ass, the sound echoing wetly off the tile walls. “Now, enough showering fun, my fingers are starting to prune up, and we need to meet the boys downtown soon.”

“The boys?” he looked at me in horror, and I had to laugh at the dismay I saw blossoming in Sunshine’s _Brian is my knight in shining armor who rescued me from the big, bad City_ daydream. Reality sucks, and the sooner he learned that lesson the better.

“Yeah. Mikey, Ted, and Emmett all came along to keep me fucking company. Is there a problem, Sunshine?” I raised my eyebrows at him mockingly, curious if he’d dare voice his objections to me after his little stunt. But Justin is a smart boy and obviously knows when not to push his luck, so instead he sank to his knees, swallowed my cock, and reminded me of just one of the reasons I kept him around. Yeah, Justin loves cock, but he loves mine the most of all.

After we made it safely back to Pittsburgh with Mikey glowering and Justin pouting as I revealed my plan for Justin to become a tenant at Chez Novotny, I happily got rid of all my fucking annoying passengers and headed off to Babylon. I was anxious and horny as hell, but I was able to find some solace inside a few good men in the back room. Road trip over…mission fucking accomplished…so why did I feel like shit?

In any case, a few days later I threw a fabulous birthday bash for Mikey at the loft, although as usual, my philanthropy was not appreciated, but my purpose was served and that was all that mattered. That, and the fact that Mikey and his Doctor, the Dick, were happily reunited, made it all fucking worthwhile. 

I enjoyed a few fun-filled days in a daze at Babylon and the Baths, no annoying best friend to whine in my ear that I had had enough…enough booze…enough drugs…enough anonymous cock. But somehow in the middle of all the blissful excess, I found I was missing something, and the more wasted I got, the stronger that feeling became until finally I found myself in familiar surroundings on an unfamiliar quest. As fucked-up as I was from Anita’s illegal substances and a gallon too much of my old friend, Jim Beam, I knew I needed to talk to Justin. Who the fuck cares if it was one a.m. on a school night? I threw another handful of gravel at the closed second story window and waited impatiently.  
The light suddenly popped on, and I let out an unexpected giggle. I was pretty fucking stoned. The blinds were pulled up and I saw Justin’s sleepy face peering down at me blearily. “Brian?” I saw him mouth my name in shock and confusion. 

“Open the fucking window!” I stage whispered and pantomimed, hoping he would hurry the fuck up. Pittsburgh’s nights are always cold and the alcohol in my system could only keep me so warm. 

Hesitating for only a few seconds, Justin threw open the window and poked his blond head out warily, trying to hide a smile as he took in my stunning ensemble of muddy leather jacket and matching crud- covered jeans. “What are you doing here, Brian?” he asked, perking up in the brisk night air. “Are you drunk?” 

“Ding-ding-ding! Give the twink an all expense paid trip to my fuckpad on Tremont!” Yeah, I was totally wasted. 

“Oh my God! You’re really fucking trashed!” He leaned further out the window and laughed as I lost my balance and almost ended up in the mud again. “You’re not going to start juggling, are you?” 

“Fuck you, Justin. Just get your tight ass down here…your chariot awaits.” Then I bowed and gestured toward my haphazardly parked jeep. 

Justin looked at me with a frown and gave a worried glance over his shoulder. “I can’t go with you, Brian. I’m taking my SAT’s tomorrow and I promised Deb I’d get a good night’s sleep.” 

I sighed in frustration and missed Mikey again. He could be a pain in the ass at times, but at least he wasn’t a high school student taking college placement tests. I stood there for a moment, swaying back and forth, and I wondered when Deb’s lawn had gotten so uneven. 

Suddenly, I realized that Justin’s face had disappeared from the window, and I started to turn and trudge back to the jeep. Deb’s front door flew open and a hastily dressed and barefoot Justin ran forward and intercepted me before I could reach the street. 

“Wait! You can’t drive like that Brian. You might kill yourself or an innocent person if you drive while under the influence.” Mikey was also not a fucking public service announcement.

I opened my mouth to argue with the know-it-all twat that had grabbed my arms and was now pressing himself against me, trying to steer me toward the house

“And if you come upstairs with me,” he continued as he brushed my hair back from my forehead, “I’ll blow you.” I stared down into his oh-so-innocent looking eyes and that small sober part of me that’s always there watching, no matter how much I try to drown it with drugs and alcohol, flared into life. 

I considered telling him to blow himself, I’d head back to Babylon and find a trick who would be happy as fuck to come back to the loft with me, but instead I hear myself ask, “Just one blow job? That’s not a whole lot of incentive, Sunshine.”

He flashed me his trademark grin, and I let him take my hands and lead me into the house. “I promise I’ll let you fuck me too. Okay? Now be quiet. If Deb wakes up we’ll both be fucked.”

I admire his ass as I followed him unsteadily up the stairs. Maybe things were starting to look up after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a truly shitty week at work, Brian indulges in a little playtime with his teenage sensation.

The next few weeks fucking sucked. There was no way to put an advertising “spin” on it, or come up with a fucked up euphemism like “challenging times”; my life flat out sucked.

One of the many things I had always prided myself on was my ability to kick ass in my chosen profession. I had decided from the time I’d scored my first internship that I would hit the ground running on the fast track to making partner.

My own personal goal of reaching that plateau by the age of thirty, while looming rather close, was still firmly in my sights. Ryder knew I was chomping at the bit, and like the shrewd businessman he was, he intended to make me jump through as many hoops as possible before presenting me with my golden ticket. He was a heartless bastard, but he believed in awarding accomplishments. My bonuses were proof of that over the past few years, and I just needed to nail a few more high-profile accounts to be able to put some real pressure on the man to cough up the title and the added perks.

I had also started to hear the faintest whispers from the advertising community at large about this year’s Clio's, and I had two campaigns that were rumored to have put me in the running for Advertiser of the Year. Needless to say, I was feeling somewhat invincible when Ryder swept into my office and gave me a virtual kick in the balls, via one shithead named Kip Thomas.

As pissed as I was at getting shafted by an amateur like Kip, I took some of the blame on myself for setting myself up in the first place. I usually didn’t stick my dick in an ass that was on the same payroll as me, but I'd made an exception for Kip, who really should be having a successful career in politics, he had ass-kissing down to such a science. I had been lax and stupid, especially by fucking him more than once, at the office and my loft to boot. I swallowed my pride and realized I needed a real ball-busting bull dyke bitch of a lawyer, which is how I ended up being the unlikely client of one Melanie Marcus, Esquire.

Although I knew most of my so-called friends thought I was getting what I deserved from the indiscriminate way I chose to wield my dick, finally sticking it in a place it shouldn’t have ventured. I made sure my ‘No Apologies, No Regrets’ game face stayed firmly in place. Fuck if I was going to give anyone the satisfaction of kicking me while I was down.

I was primarily pissed because the little shit was trying to use the “gay like me” card to skip a few rungs on the corporate ladder, something I found distasteful and pathetic. I lived by the hard and fast rule that you can only count on yourself, and contrary to my lifestyle outside of the workplace, I firmly believed in setting goals and achieving them based on personal merit and old-fashioned hard work.Kip actually exhibited a flair for advertising and I had been willing to mentor him for that reason alone, before my dick fucked things up for me.

In truth, even as I was quietly panicking as the reality of the situation started sinking in, and I knew there was no fucking way I was going to escape this nightmare with a job, let alone a partnership, I noticed that my ubiquitous stalker was suddenly there every time I turned my fucking head.

Okay, so that was really nothing new, but the fact that I had stopped mocking him for it, and actually looked forward to him as a welcome distraction to my shitty life, would have sent me to the backroom or baths for a lost weekend in the not-so-distant past. But, I found that facing unemployment and personal bankruptcy if Kip’s little plot succeeded had the unwelcome side effect of making my dick soft unexpectedly, and that was one piece of juicy gossip I was not about to let any of the vicious queens on Liberty Avenue get their manicured claws on.

I admit I was feeling the pressure; very rarely was my professional life threatened in any way, and I don’t react well to being cornered about shit I care little about, let alone my fucking livelihood.

So when I noticed that my teenage sensation was suddenly underfoot on a daily basis, I can’t say that I really discouraged him from fawning over me in that intense and totally understandable manner he’s shown from the first night I picked him up in front of Babylon. I caught myself glancing over more often as this particular night went on, finding my dick was taking a keener interest every time I caught his hungry stare meet mine.

I was in dire need of a distraction, and yet I was feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable as the day my fate would be decided on loomed closer. I gave Justin a considering look and made a decision based on instinct and an occasional need I would never confess to out loud.

I finally stood up and turned off the mindless droning of Justin’s reality show of the moment, heading directly into the bedroom without giving him another glance. I could feel the anticipation level swiftly rise as he tried to process my mood tonight.

The majority of the gay population of Pittsburgh is convinced that I am a sexual deviant who is into all sorts of freaky types of fucking, an assumption I do nothing to squelch. I am anything but vanilla when it comes to my favorite pastimes of sucking and fucking. The truth is that I prefer a straightforward night of erotic foreplay, followed by a marathon session of sticking my dick into a tight ass and very slowly building things up to a fever pitch, only to put on the brakes, letting the pressure keep building until my partner and I have an orgasm that threatens to cause our heads to explode.

Intense? Yes.

Freaky ass? Not really.

Satisfying? Fuck, yes.

But, those nights are the exception to my usual tricking rules, and very few of my tricks end up being invited to engage in my particular brand of prolonged pleasure. Besides, those that did merit an invitation tend to be discreet, ever hopeful they will earn a return engagement.

I could also count on Michael to quickly deny it whenever some dimwitted twink or trouble-making queen mentioned it; his vehement protests foiling those trying to debunk some of my carefully guarded mystique. Ironically, his careful nurturing of my reputation as a heartless fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type of fag, would actually work in my favor in the Kip Thomas case according to a somewhat disgusted Counselor Marcus.

But, I digress from my main point, which is to explain why Justin had no apprehensions in following me into the heart of my fuck pad, even when I gave him no obvious signs of encouragement. I was well aware of his somewhat delusional boasts that he was on to me, and for the most part, he knew me far better than I would ever admit to him. He was a cocky enough lad without my adding to his arrogance.

And so, when I stripped myself, giving him a clear view of my naked ass entering the bathroom, I had no doubt he knew what sort of turn the night’s festivities would be taking. He trusted that I would never take him where he didn’t want to go, and I trusted that he would keep his fucking mouth shut when it came to the details of just exactly how hands-on I was about to allow his education and exploration in the queer world to be tonight.

I was adjusting the temperature in the shower to be warm and relaxing as opposed to hot and damaging to tender-skinned twinks, when I felt him move in behind me and shut the glass door.

I leaned back into the spray and let the water drip from my scalp onto my face, my eyes locked with his, making sure there was no confusion about the event that was about to unfold.

“You ready for this?” I challenged him, waiting for his solemn nod before I turned my back to him, placing my palms firmly on the shower wall, my ass pushed out in silent invitation.

I heard him clear his throat nervously, and I smiled to myself, knowing that it would only take him a minute or less to find his innate confidence. Justin Taylor was nothing if not a Type A overachiever.

He placed his hands on my shoulders, rubbing his fingers soothingly up and down my back, and I allowed myself to relax into his touch. It was an urban legend that Brian Kinney never bottomed, but the truth was that I was as much a size queen as any other queer on the planet.

The thought of having something large shoved up my ass when the mood struck me, was hot as fuck to me, and Justin was certainly a well-endowed lad, age and height be damned.

He let his fingers slide down my back until they reached the crack of my ass, where he stroked gently, rubbing lightly against my hole but not breaching it. I felt my cock twitch eagerly in response to his teasing touch, and I spread my legs a little wider as a reward.

He spanned my waist with his hands, reaching around to caress my cock, bringing his own hard tool into close contact with my ass as he pushed his body up against mine.

I felt his lips trailing across my shoulders as his hands released my cock to grab a bar of soap.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned into my ear, his hot breath an erotic contrast to the cooler water dripping its way down my neck. “You always smell so fucking edible when you use this type of soap.” He slicked my body quickly and efficiently as he spoke, rubbing his cock against my sudsy ass, playing near my hole teasingly until I let out a quiet warning growl. Twinks have a certain charm about them, but my goodwill only extends so far, especially after the week I was having.

The little shit fucking snorted at my displeasure, but he picked up the pace, dropping quickly to his knees as soon as the last of the suds disappeared down the drain.“Bet that soap makes your ass taste great too.”

I rolled my eyes and considered changing my plans and just fucking the shit out of him for spouting a line like that at me, but then he shoved his tongue into my ass, and I decided to forgive him since he was only seventeen and hadn’t had much time to work on his sex talk skills.

He spread my ass open and dug in with a fervor I think I’d only seen him exhibit at the diner when inhaling his lunch and a healthy portion of mine.

I opened my mouth to praise his technique, but the only sound that emerged was a garbled groan.

After a few more minutes of a rim job worthy of a fucking Olympic gold medalist, I slammed the faucet off, pulling a startled Justin out behind me, stopping for a cursory swipe of a towel, before dragging him to my bed.

“Brian, what the fuck?” he was a little slow on the uptake, but he caught on quick when I glared at him over my shoulder as I positioned myself of all fours in the middle of the bed.  
He slid behind me eagerly, grabbing a condom and lube on the way.

I jerked myself off impatiently as he popped the lid on the lube and dripped some onto my crack and his fingers.

“You want me to fuck you hard and fast, or deep and slow?” He used the two fingers stretching my hole to illustrate his question, reaching beneath me to stroke my balls firmly.

“Just fuck me!” I was gritting my teeth to hold back the pathetic moans that wanted to escape from my lips as he continued to find my every erotic zone with mind-blowing precision and accuracy.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, Brian.” He added a third finger in my ass and broke down any last vestige of resistance I might have had. “I know just what you need tonight.”

Now normally, I would have flipped his ass over at a comment like that just to prove I was still in complete control, but tonight was about accepting a few truths in my presently more fucked up than usual life. The begrudging reality was that I needed someone else to take over my mind and body for a few minutes, and this twink was the only person I trusted to do so without fucking it up or blabbing about it to every fag within earshot at Babylon tomorrow night.

I pressed my head down into my folded arms, releasing the air I had unconsciously been holding in my lungs, and relaxing my body allowing him to slide slowly but surely into my ass. He had an impressive amount of control for his age, and I was pleased that he was able to wait a few seconds for me to get used to the unfamiliar feeling of fullness in my ass. As he re-positioned and pulled back out to begin the real fucking portion of tonight’s program, I had to admit that I was somewhat impressed by his smooth technique. He had obviously been paying close attention during our many marathon fuck fests, and I settled myself down more comfortably, preparing to be thoroughly fucked in a positive life-affirming manner.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian needs a distraction after burying his old man.

So long, Jack; you miserable son-of-a-bitch!

I had taken Michael with me to bid a final adieu and fuck you to my old man. He was the only one who really knew why I had to try to exorcise that particular ghost before he had a chance to dig in and take root from the grave. I was fucked up enough where my family was concerned, and always would be, but I wasn't masochistic enough to give the old shit any more power over my psyche than he already had.

As I watched one of the fucker's most prized possessions roll away into the damp and foggy Pittsburgh night, I realized I owed it to myself and my own Sonny-boy to at least make the attempt to maintain some sort of positive influence in his life. I trusted that the munchers would give him a childhood that he would remember as relatively stable and loving; maybe my uncredited cameo appearances would be enough to convince him his old man wasn't a total waste of time.

I had been struggling with my own demons where Gus was concerned ever since I had chosen getting my cock sucked at Babylon's Leather Ball to spending the weekend bonding with him.

Mel had called me on it that time, and although I would never admit out loud that the bitch had a point; well, I silently agreed that the bitch had a point. 

But it also served to back up my firm belief that the shitty father gene cannot be avoided, and with my luck, it probably fucking amplifies from generation to generation. A fine family tradition, like alcoholism or chronic whoring, passed down through the ages, culminating in my inability to care enough about my own ticking time bomb to give him my full attention for 48 uninterrupted hours. 

When Lindsay had called to say she needed my help that weekend, I surprised myself by how easily I agreed. With Claire's spawn, I would never have mustered up an ounce of concern, even if her only other option would have been to let rehabilitated serial killers watch her brats. But the idea of a complete stranger having total control over Gus's well-being for one fucking weekend, had me twitching. I was a Senior Ad Executive entrusted with multi-million dollar accounts daily, I could handle two days with my infant son. Right? 

Except one of those days was the day my old man decided to darken my doorway, unwelcome and uninvited, bearing tidings of great fucking joy; he had been stricken with cancer, and it was terminal. 

I honestly had no intention on heading over to the hedonistic homo handcuff hop at Babylon until Jack's little announcement hit me like a sucker punch, leaving me in dire need of a bit of my preferred pain management. In retrospect, I should have hung out with Gus and his bratty twat of a babysitter instead, especially after half the bears at the Ball decided I could use a nice daddy to paddle my ass. In past years, I would have accepted the challenge and turned the tables on a few of those Doms for a Day, but instead I headed back to the loft, where my Sonny-boys were waiting. Unfortunately for me, so was the Queen of the Dykes.

In the end, I let her leave with Gus that night, although not without a fight and a few mutual insults, but I had proven to myself that I couldn't be trusted to put Gus first, and I knew then it was simply a matter of time before I turned my rights over permanently.

By the time old Jack kicked the bucket, I had shed the last of my guilt about signing away those rights as Gus's dad. Add Lindsay's fucked up idea to provide asylum to that pathetic frog, Gui, with his fucking bunny stew, and removing my parental rights seemed to be the perfect solution to protecting Gus from future disappointment from having me as an old man. He was bound to encounter enough bullshit in his life from having two mommies, adding a fucked-up father in the mix wouldn't help those odds at all. 

I would always contribute to his care, financially and from the sidelines, but he needed to know from the start that I was not a fucking candidate for 'Father Knows Best' except when it came to getting my rocks off in the back room at Babylon.

Justin gave me an earful of pretentious crap from time to time about how much a boy needs a father, and I usually shut him up by either shoving my dick in his mouth, or when the little shit didn't get the fucking hint, by shoving my dick in any anonymous orifice that was available. 

But on this exceptionally shitty night, after hopefully rolling Jack's bowling ball straight into the bowels of Hell to reunite with him, and dropping Michael off. I found myself aimlessly driving through the nearly deserted Pittsburgh streets, without a fucking clue of what I needed. 

Glancing at the empty seat beside me, I found myself thinking about a particularly annoying brat, whose ceaseless chattering often made me grit my teeth in frustration when he drove with me. But tonight, the silence was deafening. 

I turned the jeep around and headed toward Deb's house before I could examine my motivation too closely, telling myself picking Justin up would serve the dual purpose of getting a hot piece of ass, and taking my mind off all the shit that wasn't supposed to be complicating my life. When the fuck had my carefree, perfectly satisfactory selfish lifestyle become so compromised? 

I pulled in front of the Novotny homestead with a screech of my brakes, honking the horn impatiently until I saw Justin's head cross in front of the window in Mikey's old bedroom. He smiled and waved, laughing when he saw me flip him off, blowing me a fucking kiss which reminded me to discourage him from hanging around Emmett too often.

I fiddled with the radio while I waited for the princess to powder his ass or whatever it was he was doing instead of sitting in my car sucking my lonely cock, honking a few more times before he skipped out the front door.

"Sorry to make you wait," he said breathlessly as he leaned across the seat and kissed my cheek. "but I really didn't expect to see you tonight." 

I grunted in response, reaching over to give his crotch a quick squeeze hello, letting the lad know actions would speak louder than words this time.

"I'm really glad to see you," he whispered, sliding in as close as he could, lowering his head until I moved the seat back a few inches, giving him the room he requested with a hungry look and a beguiling flick of his naughty pink tongue. 

I pulled away from the curb, pointing my Jeep roughly in the direction of the loft, my hand settling lightly on Justin's head, which was now buried comfortably in my lap, his mouth busily trying to distract me from all the fucked-up shit that made up a day in my life.

The streets of Pittsburgh were desolate. The crappy weather and the fact that it was the middle of the work week guaranteeing that there were few other vehicles to be seen. 

I stopped at a red light, and slammed my head back against the head rest as Justin seemed to decide to use our lack of movement as the catalyst to get me off, quickly and intensely.

I shut my eyes and came deep inside his mouth, my mind blessedly blank, able to only focus on how fucking good the little twat's tongue felt licking at the tip of my dick as he tried to scoop out every good to the last drop of my jizz. 

I saw the light was green but I didn't give a shit as I pulled him up toward my face, kissing him gratefully, laughing quietly when he eagerly shoved his tongue in my mouth, sharing the taste. There was no question he was a sexual prodigy, and as the one who'd discovered and cultivated his many talents, I was only too happy to benefit from that as often as possible. 

He was a smart little fucker too, and I had grown to appreciate his quick wit and otherwise annoying tidbits of Taylor words of wisdom. I'd never admit it to the lad himself, but I approved of his decision to go to PIFA despite his asshole father's ultimatum and subsequent refusal to finance his education for more reasons than his having the balls to do what was best for him. 

I had to concede that I enjoyed having him around. Not permanently. Fuck that pseudo-domestic bullshit where fags rejoiced over having found a 'life partner', or a 'significant other'. I'd leave that crap to queers like Mikey and his not-so-faithful doctor, or Ted and his crystal queen twink. 

Aside from those first few weeks after I popped his cherry, Justin knew the score, and he didn't whine or complain when I told him to fuck off every so often. He respected that we weren't lesbians in love 

And then, bowing to the pressure of my stressed out mind, I pulled his mouth off of mine, pushed the blond hair away from his forehead and murmured, "I'm proud of you for getting into PIFA." His shocked look seemed to encourage my sudden need for candor. "And I'm glad you'll be staying in Pittsburgh."

He opened his mouth to answer, the overjoyed smile on his face a pale echo of my own. But I cut off whatever answer he was planning to spout by covering his mouth with my hand, urging him to climb into the back of the Jeep instead, while I pulled into a dark alley. I joined him in the back and spent the next hour keeping his mouth and his mind too busy to say anything I would make him regret.

I knew he still harbored some stray romantic thoughts, after all he was young and impressionable, but at least he knew when to use his talents for my greater good, without expecting me to shower him with empty words of love, or serenade him with something pathetic, like violin music. 

When we finally made it back to the loft, we indulged in a bout of good, clean fun in the shower, after which I tucked little Justin into bed, where he immediately fell into an exhausted sleep, his limbs wrapped around me, trapping me in his iron-like grip. 

I lay there for a while, almost drifting off at one point, until I thought I heard Jack's voice echoing through the bedroom. I shook my head, grateful for the blue lights that I never fucking turned off, knowing the bastard held no more power over me, buried six feet under in his cold, dark grave.

Yet, the imagination is a powerful mind-fucker. 

"Sonny-boy, you should be down here, not me. You deserve to be maggot food, you pathetic faggot." 

I lit a cigarette, fingers shaking so badly I almost set the bed on fire. "Fuck off, old man. I'm done letting you hurt me." It was a bad idea to let Justin sleep over tonight. I needed to get up and have a drink or twenty. I should be at the baths, fucking one hot and horny fag after another, each thrust into a tight hole a big old 'Fuck you' to Jack Kinney. 

I should...

"Brian." 

I hear a quiet voice beside me, and I look over at Justin's concerned face, watching me closely. I stare at him blankly, searching for any sign of pity or disgust, ready to toss him outside for good if he tries any psychobabble bullshit on me this time. 

"Say the wrong thing, Justin." I warn him, sending my most fearsome scowl in his direction. "Just give me an excuse..." Okay, so I'm a total asshole, but does that come as a surprise to anyone?

He looks marginally worried, but mostly amused at my words. 

He scoots closer to me, placing the palm of his hand on my cheek. 

"I'm just really glad you let me stay with you tonight, Brian. That's all. No lectures. No advice." He slowly blinks his eyes, and I know the twat is trying to play me by fucking flirting with me. But suddenly I'm fucking exhausted, and all I want to do is go to sleep for a week. 

He must see something in my face because he moves his hand to my chest, pushing me gently backwards onto the mattress, before pulling the duvet up to cover the both of us. I give him a warning glance when he looks like he's considering tucking us in, but I whisper, 'Come closer', when he retreats to the other side of the bed. It's not his fault that Jack Kinney was a fucking piece of shit who won't shut his fucking mouth even from beyond the grave. 

He lays his head hesitantly on my chest, only relaxing when I curl my arm around his shoulder, stroking his bicep lightly with one finger. I finally hear his breathing even out and let myself drift into sleep.


End file.
